


A Letter to Mycroft

by Henry_Sturges_to_Henry_Lincoln



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Letters, Love, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-09
Updated: 2015-12-09
Packaged: 2018-05-05 18:37:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5386217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Henry_Sturges_to_Henry_Lincoln/pseuds/Henry_Sturges_to_Henry_Lincoln
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Loving John Watson is one of the hardest things I have ever done, brother. But I know for certain it's the best thing I've ever done and ever will do with my life."</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Letter to Mycroft

**Author's Note:**

> Johnlock one-shot, enjoy :3

_Dear Mycroft,_

 

_You could call. I would greatly appreciate it if you stopped kidnapping my boyfriend to check up on me. Better yet, do as I am; write to me. Talking to you makes me frustrated. I can tell you how I'm doing all on my own, you know?_

 

_Things are absolutely fine. John and I are doing well. It's odd, really, to love another person. I never thought I would. We never thought we'd manage anything like that, but I did it somehow. I hope, for your sake, you can, too, someday._

 

_Loving John is a pain in the ass. Loving John Watson is one of the hardest things I have ever done, brother. But I know for certain it's the best thing I've ever done and ever will do in my life. "Ordinary" people do not exist, Mycroft. How I wish I could show you that now. John's made me better. He's not "ordinary" or "normal"- he's John Watson. He's something amazing and different and unique. Now that I've known John, I see that, despite how it may seem, "normal" people do not exist. We are not "misfits", we are just more unique than others._

 

_I know you won't write me back, and I am annoyed to admit that I know that you won't stop stealing John away to check up on me, but just trust me. There's more than meets the eye when it comes to other people, Mycroft. I hope that one day you find the one who helps you see that- no, who makes you see that. I have. And I know what true happiness is now, and I also know that I have been lonely my entire life without realizing._

 

_So I hope you are well. I am well. (please, believe me, I'm not getting into trouble or anything like that.) (John won't let me)._

 

_I will talk to you whenever it is that I talk to you next._

 

_Sincerely,_

_Sherlock Holmes. Your brother._

 

 

 

 

 

Sherlock leaned back, reading over the paper about a million times. He started to think maybe he should've called, but the thought of trying to get all these words out to Mycroft before his brother hung up or interrupted him seemed a bit... Impossible. 

 

The front door opened and the smooth rustle of grocery bags told Sherlock that John had arrived home. Sherlock kept his composure, but the excitement of John's return made a smile flash across his face. John walked into the kitchen, placing the groceries on the table. Sherlock was behind him in a second, wrapping his arms around John from behind. "Welcome home." 

 

"Thank you," John said, and somehow Sherlock knew he was smiling. 

 

"I wrote a letter to my brother." Sherlock said, releasing John to assist in putting the food away. 

 

"Can I read it?" John asked. 

 

"No." 

 

"What?" John asked, surprised. "Why not?" 

 

"Because. Secrets." Sherlock said with a wink and started back into the living room. He didn't actually put any groceries away, but at least he had intended to this time. 

 

"Secrets?" John started, following him out. "What kind of secrets?" he insisted, making Sherlock have to bite his tongue to keep from laughing. He spun gracefully on his heels and tapped John's nose, "all about  _you_ , my dear Watson." 

 

Sherlock flopped back on the couch and John fell right on him. "Tell me them!" he demanded, which Sherlock just thought was adorable. 

 

"Nope." Sherlock said, wrapping his arms around John's waist. "I have more important things to do now," he said, stealing a kiss from John. 

 

John laughed against his lips before they parted. Then they brought them right back together and held it. Sherlock found himself slipping. Something only John could make him do- he was slipping into warmth and bliss and  _happiness._ His heart seemed to sing every time John was around and now it was soaring. 

 

And as the boys spent their time together, Mrs. Hudson knew better than to walk in the living room when there was unattended groceries in the kitchen. With a fond sigh, she began putting them away. 


End file.
